A Nice Day
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: Changing the future isn't as easy as it looks....


Disclaimer: DBZ is the property of Toei Animation, licensed by Funimation Animation here in the good ole' USA. At least, that's what my brother tells me. He's been known to be wrong on more than one occasion, though; if my info is incorrect, sue him. Mom and Dad give him more money anyways.   
  
Author's Notes: Not my first attempt at DBZ fan fic, just my first *completed* attempt. Boy, I used to think Heero was hard to write for....then I tried writing for Vegeta. Heero's like a walk in the park now.   
  
Dedication: To my own Z gang. Liz-chan, Ogre, Eric, Katie, Sean, Victoria and, of course, my little brother. Thanks for the New Year's Eve memories. "Owari, Shizuku sosite, Mawaru!!" (Stop, drop and roll...I think you had to be there.)  
  
A Nice Day  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
********  
  
She was there, as she was every Saturday morning, come rain or shine....or Androids. Sitting underneath the green and white striped umbrella, surrounded by mounds of produce, a sweet smile upon her lips. As though she had every reason in the world to be happy. As though it didn't matter that the world around her was slowly becoming a hell.   
  
He had first seen her when his mother had sent him out to Copper City for groceries six weeks earlier. It was his usual chore and he certainly didn't mind being sent. The alternate was his mother going for the food and that was unacceptable. He had lost everyone in his life but his mother. He would rather die a thousand deaths than see any harm come to her.   
  
Why had he gone to the girl's stand that morning? Had the others been out of what he needed? That was probably it. He had never really noticed her before; he always bought what he needed and quickly left the market, anxious to get home. His mother was in the middle of what was probably the largest project she had ever taken on. While his mind could never compete with his mother's, he liked to help where he could.   
  
It had been peppers. His mother had gotten it into her head that she needed peppers. No one else had them. Except for the girl.   
  
*You have peppers.*  
  
*Yes, I do. How many do you need?*  
  
*Um...three. Yeah, three.*  
  
*Here you go. Have a nice day!*  
  
*Yeah....you too.*   
  
Have a nice day. No one said that anymore. It was far too hopeful of a statement. Could a day actually be nice? If not, why wish for it? But the girl said it....she honestly believed in the concept of a nice day. Perhaps that was why on his next weekly shopping trip, he had bypassed every other stand and bought only from her. And had continued to do that for six weeks.   
  
She smiled at him when she noticed him approaching her stand. Her black in black eyes were surprisingly warm, framed by incredibly thick lashes. "Good morning", she greeted him like an old friend.   
  
He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. "Hey", he managed to reply.   
  
"What can I get for you today?" She looked up at him, sweetly.   
  
"Um..." He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket for his mother's list. "Three heads of cabbage, ten tomatoes and onions, sixteen apples, four cucumbers, celery, carrots, radishes...."   
  
The girl laughed, a delightfully happy sound. "I've been wanting to ask you this for awhile. It's none of my business of course, but just how many people do you buy for?"   
  
His blush deepened. "My mom and I eat...um...a lot."   
  
"What about your father?" She began to count out apples. "He doesn't eat a lot?"   
  
"He's dead."   
  
She paused for a moment. "The Androids?" He nodded. "I'm sorry."   
  
"It's all right. It happened when I was really little. I didn't even know him."   
  
"I'm not sure that should make me feel less sympathetic." She looked at the apple in her hand. "My parents died early on, too."   
  
He played with the stalk of a pineapple. "So you...you live by yourself?"   
  
"Oh, no." She tied the bag of apples closed. "I have a younger sister. And my grandmother is still alive."   
  
"Ah." There was a long pause. "My name is Trunks", he blurted out after a minute. "Trunks Briefs."   
  
She looked at him, slightly surprised. Then, she smiled again. "I'm Lidia Myojin. It's nice to meet you, Trunks."   
  
He found himself returning her smile. "Lidia. That's a pretty name." Mentally, he slapped his forehead. But the words had already escaped his mouth.   
  
Lidia hid her grin behind a head of cabbage. "And Trunks is an....interesting name."   
  
"My mom gave it to me. She said she'd rather have me named *that* than be named after my father."   
  
"Your parents didn't get along?"   
  
Trunks shrugged. "I wish I knew. Mom barely ever mentions him." He hesitated, surprised at how much he was revealing to someone he had just met.   
  
"That's one thing that I can remember clearly about my parents....how much they loved each other. Part of me is glad that they went together. Neither had to live without the other." Lidia watched Trunks twist the stem of the pineapple.   
  
"I hear my mother cry at night every now and then." Trunks let go of the fruit. "And sometimes, when I do something that makes her mad, she'll accidently call me 'Vegeta'. That was my father's name."   
  
Lidia placed a bag of onions into the box she was preparing for him. "Why do I get the feeling that you don't mind being mistaken for your father?"   
  
"He was...very strong. Or so I've been told at least." Trunks stared a space beyond her shoulder. "No, I don't mind it. I like knowing that..." He stopped.   
  
"I know what you mean", she said quietly. "My grandmother still mistakes me for my mother. It makes me feel like some of her lives on in me. And that way, she'll never really be gone."   
  
"Yeah." Trunks pushed his lavender colored bangs off of his forehead. "So...how much do I owe you?"   
  
Lidia looked at the sky, quickly adding numbers in her head. "8000 yen." Trunks pulled money from his jacket, counted out the right amount and handed it to her. "Will I see you next week, Trunks?"   
  
He blinked. "Um...yeah. Yes, yes definitely." After another second, he reached for the box of groceries. Unfortunately, it was at the same moment that she reached for the box, to hand it to him. Their faces stopped within inches of each other.   
  
She smelled of vanilla, a scent that reminded him of his Grandmother Briefs. Up close, he could see the perfection of her face. Dark eyes, creamy skin, rosy lips. Her hair fell in black, silky strands around her face.   
  
The opportunity was ideal. He was sixteen years old, but before her, there had never been a single girl who had caught his eye. A lifetime passed as he debated with himself. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and could only hope that it wasn't so loud that she could hear it too. Gulping, he closed his eyes and prepared to lean in.   
  
Before he could even move forward, he felt something warm press against his mouth. The kiss only lasted for a tiny moment before she pulled back, but it was an unforgettable moment in a life that had been too full of moments better forgotten.   
  
A memory of his old friend and teacher, Gohan, resurfaced. While talking one day before Gohan's final, mortal battle with the Androids, the older man had tried to tell him about girls. The birds and the bees, he had called the talk. The facts of life had not surprised Trunks; they rather seemed to make sense. But Gohan had apologized profusely for what he had deemed his lack of practical knowledge. In the place of detailed descriptions, he had repeated, verbatim, what his own father told him before he had died.   
  
*Fall in love with the girl who can keep you in line. A woman probably won't ever be your physical match, so she's gotta be smarter than anyone else. Livelier than anyone else. And she has to love you, despite the stuff you're probably going to put her through. And you have to make sure she knows you feel the same about her. You're lucky if you find her; she's pretty rare. When you do, don't let her go.*  
  
Not for the first time in his life, Trunks wished he had known Son Goku.   
  
"You kissed me", he stated.   
  
Lidia smiled. "Well, it didn't seem like you were going to kiss *me*, so I had to do something." She lowered her gaze to the vegetables that lay between them. "Moments like that don't come along every day, you know."   
  
Trunks felt a bit of his Saiyan pride bubble up. "I would have kissed you", he protested.   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
Lidia lifted her chin and closed her eyes. "Prove it."   
  
Running his tongue across his lips, Trunks leaned forward, gently capturing her mouth with his. As they kissed, every worry in his life seemed to fade away. The Androids became a distant memory. His soon to be carried out mission to the past...a minor obstacle. They slowly pulled apart after what seemed like eternity, yet was far too brief a period of time.   
  
She spoke first. "I've never been kissed before."   
  
"Me neither", he whispered.   
  
"I'm glad you were my first kiss, Trunks." Her eyes shone.   
  
Trunks swallowed heavily. "I...I'm glad you were...mine." He stood up straight. "I'll...um...see you next week?"   
  
"Of course", she promised. He nodded and turned to leave. When he was a few paces away, he heard her clear her throat. "Trunks? I think you forgot something."   
  
Turning back around, he saw the box of groceries in her arms. He blushed at his own carelessness. "Sorry", he apologized, reaching for the box.   
  
"No problem. In fact..." She reached for the pineapple he had been toying with and placed it in the box. "Take this, too."   
  
"Thanks." Trunks turned to go, but quickly glanced back over his shoulder. Cocking his head to the side, he smiled. "Have a nice day, Lidia Myojin."   
  
"Have a nice day, Trunks Briefs."   
  
**********  
  
His entire body ached. Was this how Gohan had felt when the Androids robbed him of his arm? Or when they took his life? He shook his head. Gohan had died; he, on the other hand, was still alive. He would get better, but Gohan would never come back. Just like his father would never come back. Piccolo, Krillin, Yamucha. Names he had grown up hearing repeatedly from his mother. He wished he had faces to go with the names. Piccolo was the short one...or was that Krillin? He would have to ask his mother before he left for the past, to make sure.   
  
Trunks sighed and pounded the mattress with his fist, sending a shooting pain up his arm. For the fiftieth time since he had woken up a day earlier, he regretted his thoughtless encounter with the Androids. What on earth had gotten into him? His mother still hadn't finished ranting on him about it. He understood why she felt the need to, but he was growing a little weary of all the guilt. Didn't she understand that every little thing helped? Maybe he hadn't won...or even done any damage, but he had tried. His regret didn't lie in the encounter itself, but in the fact that the Androids had put him out of commission for a few days. While he was lying in bed, recooperating, who knew what sorts of things they were doing to the people of Earth.  
  
He heard his mother coming down the hall towards his room. She appeared in the doorway, carrying a dinner tray. "Hey, sweetie. You're awake."   
  
"Yeah." He watched her set the tray down. As if seeing her for the first time, Trunks studied his mother intently. Long, aquamarine hair, tied back from her face. Wide sapphire eyes that matched his own. Try as he did, it was hard for him to find any of his physical self in Bulma Briefs, beyond his eyes. He could only guess that most of his features came from his father.   
  
"How are you feeling?", Bulma asked him, picking up a bowl of soup and a spoon.   
  
Trunks shrugged and tried not to wince at the painful motion. "Better." Bulma nodded and spooned up some soup, advancing towards him. "Mom....I think I'm at least well enough to feed myself."   
  
Her brow crinkled. "Hey! If you're manly enough to go out and get yourself nearly killed, you're manly enough to sit there and humor your mother." Trunks sighed and opened his mouth. "You know, I used to do this when you were little and you got sick." Bulma's eyes were watery as she fed him another spoonful of soup.   
  
"I remember." Trunks swallowed a mouthful. "Mom?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
Trunks accepted another spoonful. "About the time capsule." Her hand stopped as she waited for him to go on. "If I go to the past and give Goku the medicine, when I come back...will all of this be different?"   
  
Bulma set the bowl to the side. "I really don't know, Trunks. I hope so. But I'd imagine it's far more complex than even *I* can imagine."   
  
He nodded. "I understand. I just thought it'd be really great....to come back and have everyone here. Goku, Gohan...." He paused. "Father."   
  
"Hmpfh." Bulma stood up. "If that man is here when you return, I might just send you back again to change it all."   
  
"Aww, c'mon Mom. He couldn't have been *that* bad. I mean, Gohan said he was tough, but still..."   
  
Bulma looked down at her son. There was so much hope in his face; a lump welled in her throat. "I suppose..." Sitting back down, she reached out and touched a lock of his light purple hair. "Every day I see you, Trunks....you remind me more and more of him. Physically, anyways."   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Really." The smile that appeared on Trunks' face at this warmed Bulma entirely. She reached for the soup again. When the bowl was empty a short while later, she set it aside. "If I turn the TV on, do you promise to stay still if there's any Android news?", she asked her only son.  
  
Trunks sighed. "Yes, Mom."   
  
Bulma reached for the remote control and flicked on their tiny TV set. A reporter's face filled the screen. Behind him was the smoking ruins of a city. Trunks tensed. It could only mean one thing.   
  
The reporter's words confirmed his suspicions. "...this exclusive report. Behind me is what remains of Copper City. Only this morning it was a bustling metropolis. Now, like so many of its neighboring cities, it lies in ruins in the aftermath of the Androids."   
  
Trunks' mind raced. Copper City. They bought their groceries in Copper City.   
  
Lidia lived in Copper City.   
  
He sat upright in bed, ignoring his beaten body and its cries of painful protest. His fist balled up; it was all he could do to keep his ki suppressed.   
  
"Trunks?" Bulma touched his arm. "What are you doing?"   
  
"I'm sorry, Mom." He pushed the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I have to go."   
  
Bulma's face contorted in anger. "No. No, no, no. You promised, Trunks. You promised."   
  
"I'm sorry", he repeated, slowly pulling on his shoes. His ribs ached with every movement. "I have to."   
  
"They're long gone, Trunks. And even if they weren't, you're too badly hurt to stand any sort of chance against them." Bulma watched her son don his Capsule Corp jacket and strap his sword across his broad chest. "You are not leaving this house, young man. You are getting back into that bed and..."   
  
"I'm sorry, Mom!!", he yelled. Bulma's eyes widened. "I have to go. I have...a friend in Copper City." His brow furred. "I need to know...if she's all right."   
  
"Trunks..."   
  
He limped to the door. Sweat already beaded his forehead as he struggled against his wounds. "I'll be right back." Before she could reply, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.   
  
Bulma ignored the tears that ran down her cheeks. "That's what your father said."   
  
********  
  
He flew the short distance to Copper City, as he was accustomed to doing. The flight was fairly easy on his broken body, much easier than walking at least. The wind pushed through his hair and rippled the sleeves of his jacket. He thought about powering up before reaching the city, in case the Androids happened to be hanging around, enjoying their handiwork. But something kept him at a normal power level. Something beyond his injuries.   
  
The city had been destroyed. It was evident as soon as he spotted it. Where there had once been skyscrapers, there were now piles of rubble. Where there had been lakes, there were now enormous, dry craters. He stopped and hung in midair for a minute.   
  
Something caught his eye. Stripes. A tiny bit of color against the monotones of the rubble. Green and white stripes. Trunks felt the blood drain from his face. A cold sweat wet his hands. Taking a deep breath, he flew down to the ground.   
  
The green and white cloth was frayed, burned around the edges. It lay around concrete chunks and wooden beams....and the remnents of a mound of vegetables.   
  
"No", Trunks whispered. His head spun; he wanted to shoot off the ground, fly away to a place where he didn't have to face this. But his feet remained on the ground. He couldn't even close his eyes.   
  
Not even when he saw an arm protruding from under the wreckage.   
  
As though he had left his body, he watched himself slowly walk forward. The slender arm was twisted in an entirely unnatural way. Pale and bloodied, it lay lifeless. Blindingly hot tears flooded his eyes.   
  
Why was he here? Why did he have to go through this again? Was he always destined to find the bodies of people he cared for...too late to do anything to save them? Why him?   
  
"Lidia." He felt it rising within him. The incredible anger...and crushing pain. It wasn't unfamiliar, nor unwelcome. The air around him picked up as the feelings intensified.   
  
*Warm lips. Joyful laughter. That pineapple. The feeling of not being entirely alone. Of knowing that someone out there understood him...understood just what it was like to have grown up in this world.*  
  
"Auughh!!!" He rendered the world with his anguish. His hair rose, as though the very ends could reach the sky. Unbelievable strength coursed through his veins, restrained only by his skin. "Lidia!!!", he screamed.   
  
*******  
  
His mother was waiting for him when he arrived home although it was hours after he had left. He said nothing to her as he walked into the house. Bulma ran to him.   
  
"Trunks....Trunks, are you all right??" She looked her son over, anxiously.   
  
He stared straight ahead, but it was obvious that his eyes focused on nothing. His hair was tousled, what looked supicously like tear stains streaked his cheeks. His hands were horrifically dirty; blood and soil caked his fingernails. His clothes were just as messy, as though he had been digging.   
  
"What happened?", she asked him. He didn't answer, only continued to stare straight ahead without blinking. "Trunks...please talk to me. Please..."   
  
"When can I leave?", he finally asked.   
  
Bulma blinked repeatedly. "I thought we agreed to wait a few weeks...."  
  
Trunks shook his head, the first real movement he had made since he walked through the door. "I want to leave now. I have to..." He stopped, seemingly unable to go on.   
  
"Trunks, please...you need to recooperate. The time capsule will still be there when..." She was cut off by his uncharacteristically angry voice.   
  
"You don't understand!! I have to go *now*!! I have to change this...all of this!!", he cried. Bulma watched as fresh tears spilled onto his cheeks. "I can't....bury anymore....people!!"   
  
Her arms wrapped around her only son. He pulled back at first, but she hung on, despite the huge difference in their strength levels. After a while, he stopped fighting back and let himself be held. "Please, Mom", he whispered. His child-like tone pulled Bulma's heartstrings.   
  
"All right", she said, kissing the top of his head. "You can leave first thing in the morning."   
  
Trunks closed his eyes and rested his cheek against his mother's shoulder. "I'm going to make it all better, Mom. I'm going to give you all nice days, from now on. You and Father and Gohan....everyone." *And Lidia.*  
  
*********  
  
Trunks looked down at the baby in his arms. His own eyes stared back up at him from behind thick, purple eyebrows. He touched the one curl of lavender hair that peaked out from under his tiny, navy blue cap. It had taken him awhile to be used to holding...himself, but now, just before he was ready to leave, he found he wanted some time alone with the baby who would one day become him.   
  
"Hey, kid", he said softly. Baby Trunks gurgled. "You are adorable, if I do say so myself." He smiled and lifted his chin, gazing across the sprawling lawn. A few yards away, he could see the gravity chamber his Grandfather Briefs had built for Vegeta, more an incentive for him to stay with Bulma and Baby Trunks than out of the goodness of his heart, Trunks suspected. Not that his grandfather had a malicious bone in his body. That was one of the many things this trip had given him: the opportunity to get to know the people who would have been his family.   
  
Vegeta was most assuredly inside the chamber, training under incredible gravity. Unlike everyone else involved in the Cell Games, Vegeta had opted to not take a break from training after the monster had been destroyed. In fact, the Games seemed to have made him want to push himself further. Trunks corrected himself. Gohan's new strength had made his father want to push himself further.   
  
Baby Trunks wiggled in his arms, demanding Trunks' attention. Reaching into the shoulder bag his mother had given him, Trunks pulled out a bottle and offered it to the baby. His tiny self's eyes lit up; his chubby arms reached greedily for the food. Trunks laughed and gave it to him. "No worries about your appetite", he said as he watched the baby chow down. "But here's a tip....you don't like brussel sprouts. And don't let anyone fool you; they're one thing that *doesn't* taste like chicken."   
  
With a sigh, Trunks settled back against the base of the tree who's shade he had sought. Baby Trunks continued to suck at his bottle. For the first time in a very long time, Trunks let himself relax. Inevitably though, his mind wandered back to the Cell Games.   
  
It had only been one day, but in that one day, he had died, been brought back to life with the Dragonballs and watched the course of Earth's history drastically change. He took no credit for it; it was the strength of Goku and his son, Gohan, that had saved both this world and the one he would shortly return to. But he did feel proud for having been a part of it.   
  
"Goku", he said outloud. A wave of sorrow washed over him. Despite what little he had done to try to stop it, Goku had still died. The Earth had still lost its most powerful, most compassionate warrior. Its hero.   
  
He blinked back melancholy. At least Goku had died in battle, exactly as he had wished, instead of wasting away in bed from a disease that was so easily curable ten years later. He felt as happy as he could knowing that he had given Goku at least that.   
  
Suddenly, the door to the gravity chamber swung open with a terrific metallic clang. Trunks watched as his father stepped out of the dome, sweaty and haggard from what had probably been hours of training. He said nothing, only watched Vegeta slam the door behind him. Baby Trunks, however, chose that moment to squeal as loudly as he could around the rubber nipple that he refused to let go of. Vegeta's head swung over to locate the source of the noise. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the two versions of his son sitting under the tree.   
  
Trunks was sure his father would walk away, but to his great surprise, the Saiyan Prince made his way over to his sons. Stopping just outside of the shaded area, Vegeta crossed his arms. "What are you doing?", he asked for lack of anything else to say.   
  
"Feeding myself", Trunks replied non-chalantly. The bottle was empty; Baby Trunks desperately tried to suck the last few drops that clung to the insides of the bottle.   
  
If Vegeta was amused, he hid it well. "Doesn't the woman do that?"   
  
"I like to help her." Trunks tried to pull the bottle from Baby Trunks' little hands, but the child held on with all of his tiny might.   
  
His father snorted. "Suit yourself." He turned to go.  
  
Giving up on the bottle, Trunks addressed Vegeta's back. "Father..."   
  
Vegeta stopped, but didn't turn around. "What do you want?"   
  
"I'm leaving tomorrow, you know."   
  
"Someone's in a hurry to get out of here." Vegeta recrossed his arms. "What...you got a woman waiting for you?"   
  
"Hopefully." Trunks swallowed heavily. "Before I go, I have to ask you something." Holding onto Baby Trunks, he stood. "And I'd really like you to answer me."   
  
Vegeta finally turned, anger and interest peaked. "Don't count on it, boy." But he let Trunks continue.   
  
"Do you love my mother?"   
  
Trunks never would have imagined his father was capable of being caught off guard by simple words. Still, he watched as Vegeta's mouth fell open, unable to say anything for a long moment. When he had regained control of himself, he scowled dangerously. "Did Kakarott put you up to this? That third class..." Trunks stopped his rant.   
  
"No...no, I never had a chance to speak to Goku about much more than Cell or the Androids." Trunks took a breath. "The question stands. Do you love my mother?"   
  
Vegeta's scowl deepened. "Love is a human emotion. I am a Saiyan."   
  
"So was Goku. So is Gohan. And me...we're all Saiyans, Father. And we all love."   
  
"And you're all weakened for it."   
  
Trunks sighed. "Why do I even bother?" Bending down, he picked up the shoulder bag. Baby Trunks cooed at the motion. When he had the bag, Trunks began to walk away.   
  
"Yes", Vegeta called out.   
  
He stopped and turned. "Yes, what?"   
  
Vegeta growled in the back of his throat. "You know what."   
  
"You can't say it? The whole thing, not just 'yes'."   
  
"Don't push me, boy."   
  
Trunks smiled. "Never, Father." Vegeta quickly turned and stalked towards the main house.   
  
Baby Trunks reached out and grabbed a hank of Trunks' hair, tugging sharply. "Hear that, kid?", he whispered. "Goku was right....you fall in love with the girl who can keep you in line. Although I think Mom has the hardest job of anyone else." He smiled again. "Think Lidia could keep us in line?" Baby Trunks laughed merrily, pulling even harder on Trunks' hair. "Yeah, I think so, too. Cross those little fingers for me, kid. I'm going to need it."   
  
His future might not have changed much the first time he returned from the past. But things were different now. Cell had been destroyed. The Androids of the future were no match for him anymore. There was every reason to believe his world would be a very different place upon his arrival.   
  
Every reason to believe she would be alive, waiting for him.  
  
*********  
  
His heart was strangely full as he soared through the air. It pounded within the confines of his chest, harder and faster than he could remember it having ever done so before. A small smile of satisfaction crept onto his lips. The Androids were dead. He had killed them only days earlier. It was laughable how little energy it had taken him to destroy the pair. A year of training in the hyperbolic time chamber...having died and been brought back to life....he was stronger than ever. And he owed it all to the men of the past. The Z Warriors.   
  
But today, they were the furthest thing from his mind. After three days under his mother's constant, maternal supervision, he was finally free to do the one thing he had been aching to do since the moment he woke up from the dead on the ground of Kami's Lookout and learned of Cell's defeat.   
  
Find Lidia.   
  
It was Saturday...she should be there, sitting under her umbrella, wishing the world a nice day. He felt more confident than ever that she would be; he had been witness to some things in the world that had changed. Certain cities that hadn't been destroyed, for example. Little things. Little things that could make a huge difference.   
  
He slowed down his flight as he neared Copper City. From the air, the city didn't look too bad off. A broken building here or there, reconstruction already started. He grinned broadly.   
  
The green and white umbrella was set up in the usual spot. Several people stood around it, shopping bags in hand. As he swooped down for a better look, he could see a mound of pineapples in one corner of the stand.   
  
Trunks landed behind a tree, lest he attract too much attention to himself. A TV crew had, unfortunately, captured a bit of his final battle with the Androids on film. The next day, his face had been plastered all over the airwaves. The TV crew had reminded him a bit of the one sent to film the Cell Games. He laughed shortly. The Z Warriors had agreed to give those men credit; they had stayed for the entire battle.   
  
He approached Lidia's stand slowly as he patted down his windblown hair and straightened his jacket. He wanted to present a cool, collected exterior picture...even if on the inside he was a nervous wreck.   
  
From a few feet away, he could see a young girl under the umbrella, her back turned as she placed bags of vegetables into a box. Black hair hung down her shoulders and back. The same hair he had imagined running his fingers through a million times.   
  
The woman in front of him moved and he stepped up the stand. Clearing his throat, he addressed her.   
  
"Lidia Myojin."   
  
The girl's back straightened and she turned around. A pair of bright, blue eyes looked up at him. A sledgehammer crashed into his chest.   
  
Lidia had black eyes.   
  
"Who are you?", he demanded when he had found breath to speak. "You're not Lidia."  
  
The girl looked at him strangely. "Yarika Myojin. I'm...I was Lidia's sister."  
  
Another blow from the sledgehammer. "You....were?"   
  
Yarika nodded, eyes downcast. "Did you know my sister?"   
  
Trunks blinked rapidly. "She's dead? She's still...dead?", he whispered.   
  
"She died in the attack on the city a month ago." Yarika squinted up at him. "Do I know you from somewhere?"  
  
He ignored her question. "But your stand is still here...I don't understand."   
  
Yarika pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Thankfully the stand was spared. Our house, on the other hand..." She sighed. "The one day Lidia didn't come to the stand."   
  
It was all Trunks could do to keep breathing. Everything he had done....everything he had risked his life for. Hell, *lost* his life for. It didn't mean a damn thing! The Z Warriors hadn't appeared yet...obviously, they were still dead in this world. His mother was still alone.   
  
And Lidia had still died. Just in a different way.   
  
He wanted to scream, to lose control of his ki and his mind. It was useless. He was useless. He had been incredibly stupid to believe his world could ever been nice again.   
  
Yarika clapped a hand to her mouth. "I know where I know you from! You're the man they say killed the Androids! Aren't you?"   
  
He balled up his fist, but didn't reply either way. His heart, so full only a short while earlier, was now completely empty.   
  
"Yes, I know you are!", she answered for him. Impulsively, she reached for his hand, clasping it between hers. "Thank you! Thank you so, so much!"   
  
Trunks blinked.   
  
"I know *so* many people must have told you this already, but....you saved us all." Yarika squeezed his hand.   
  
Contrary to the what the girl assumed, *no one* had told him this. Thanked him. It hit him square in the chest. But unlike the sledgehammer of Lidia's death, this feeling was entirely welcome. He felt his anguish melting under Yarika's appreciation.   
  
Perhaps he wasn't that useless.   
  
Trunks looked up at the baby blue sky. "You're welcome", he whispered. A bird flew over his head. The sun looked down on the Earth, warm and friendly. Like a smile. "You know something?"  
  
Yarika cocked her head to the side. "What?"  
  
"It's a really nice day." 


End file.
